<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>not a dream that you wish you'd have by shatteredhourglass</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440713">not a dream that you wish you'd have</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass'>shatteredhourglass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Not Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, POV Bucky Barnes, Poly Vee, Polyamory, Semi-Public Sex, Tony Is Smart But Bucky Is Not Entirely Amused By His Nosiness, V-Shaped Relationship, Vampire Bites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:15:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/pseuds/shatteredhourglass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which James Buchanan Barnes acquires one boyfriend, one girlfriend, and an increasingly worrying feeling that he actually listens to Tony Stark when the man opens his mouth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>not a dream that you wish you'd have</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge, big, enormous thank you to Nny for checking this over. Love you, thank you, appreciate you. I am getting increasingly scatter-brained these days and the thought of typos haunt me.</p><p>For clarification: Bucky is dating both Clint and Natasha, Natasha and Clint are NOT dating each other. They all know about it and are consenting adults. There is no love triangle - Clint and Nat are happy to share and they're best friends, there's no jealousy or cheating or anything like that. Happy V-shaped poly relationship.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The apartment is dark when Bucky pulls himself in through the window.</p><p>It’s an effort. Sure, there’s a handy ledge and a bin to climb up to and the window’s always open, but it’s the middle of the night and he’s more than a little bit tipsy from the last five hours. Somehow he gets in without falling out, anyway. Bucky lets out a relieved sigh when his feet hit the carpet, curls his toes in it happily. </p><p>It’s been a good night. </p><p>It’s nice when things go to plan. His plans for tomorrow - technically <em> today </em>, it’s past midnight - are to pass out in his glorious, wonderful bed, then call in sick for work and stay there for the rest of the day. Maybe he’ll order a pizza. </p><p>Life is good. </p><p>“Where have you been?”</p><p>The light clicks on and Bucky freezes halfway through the motion of walking, like Steve will magically be unable to see him if he’s still. Instead, he watches out of the corner of his eye as Steve folds his arms, settling deeper into the old chair tucked in the corner. God<em> damnit </em>all to hell.</p><p>“Nowhere?” Bucky tries. </p><p>“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve says. He doesn’t even sound mad, just <em> disappointed </em>, and Bucky feels like he’s a teenager living with his mother all over again. It sucks. </p><p>“I went for dinner,” Bucky amends. </p><p>“<em> Just </em> dinner?”</p><p>“Sure,” Bucky says. “Nice dinner by myself, good for the soul. Went for a walk in the park.”</p><p>“That why you’ve got your underwear balled up in your hand there?”</p><p>Fuck. He could say he fell in the fountain? Except then his pants would be <em> wet </em>, that won’t work - would it be better or worse if he said he lost control of his bladder? On one hand, it’d be so embarrassing Steve would be unlikely to grill him. On the other hand, he might decide to start buying adult diapers or other items in order to help. </p><p>No, he can’t face that. Better to try and escape while he still can.</p><p>“You know what? I don’t need to explain myself to you. I’m taking a shower. I’ll talk to you later.”</p><p>“Bucky,” Steve says in that tone of voice that makes Bucky stop in his tracks and sigh, because the guilt gets him every time. “I’m just <em> worried </em>. I know you going out is great and your therapist is happy with all the improvement, but you keep disappearing and you won’t tell me where you’re going and-”</p><p>“Ugh, Steve. I was seeing someone,” Bucky says. “Happy now?”</p><p>Steve lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh? Buck, that’s wonderful! Who are they? Do I know them? How long has this been going for? Are you going to bring them around for food sometime? We should have a group dinner sometime, that’d be nice, you, me, and-”</p><p>This is why he hadn’t wanted to say anything. Bucky should’ve taken the incontinence option and dealt with the consequences.</p><p>“<em> Steve </em>.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Steve says. “I’m just so happy for you, Buck.”</p><p>“Hold on, I ain’t getting married,” Bucky answers dryly. </p><p>“Still,” Steve insists. “I want to know everything.”</p><p>“Yeah well, you’re not getting everything,” Bucky says. “Can I go take my shower now?”</p><p>“At least tell me their name.”</p><p>“It’s not <em> that </em> serious, Steve, you don’t need to kn- stop making that face at me. Her name’s Natasha, okay? Goodnight.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Hang on, you only told Steve about her? Is this some kind of homophobia thing? Because I am not dealing with that on a- what day is it today, Nat?”</p><p>“Thursday,” Natasha answers, turning a page of her well-worn copy of New Moon. The faint glow from the lamp washes her pale skin in gold. Bucky’s got no idea how she can read with how dark it is in here.</p><p>“<em>On</em> <em>a Thursday</em>,” Clint repeats, pointing a scandalized finger at Bucky. It would be more effective if he wasn’t wearing a bright yellow shirt with a t-rex trying to do push-ups on the front. Not to mention his pants have apparently vacated the premises. </p><p>“It’s not a homophobia thing,” Bucky says. “Steve’s bi too. But he nearly died from excitement at the thought of me sleeping with one person. I’m not gonna survive how obnoxious he is if he finds out I’m fucking both of you.”</p><p>Chances are that Steve won’t survive it either, because Bucky will strangle him. Still. </p><p>Bucky feels kind of guilty about it and snags Clint’s shirt when he paces back his way, pulls him down onto the couch. Clint squirms around until he’s sprawled across Bucky’s lap instead. He’s so tall it’s awkward - it’s <em> ridiculous </em>how leggy he is, honestly. He’s still pouting because he’s a dramatic idiot sometimes. It’s almost worse than having Steve around, except Bucky doesn’t have the added benefit of having sex with Steve. </p><p>(<em> Ew </em>. Sex with Steve.)</p><p>“You still like me, right?”</p><p>“I still like you,” Bucky answers dutifully, bending uncomfortably to drop a kiss on Clint’s lips. It earns him a smile though, so it’s worth it.</p><p>“Just as much as Nat?”</p><p>“Just as much as Nat,” Bucky repeats. “I’m not playing favourites.”</p><p>“But if you did you’d pick me, right?”</p><p>“I’m not playing favourites. And if I picked you then you’d be upset on Natasha’s behalf anyway.”</p><p>“Aw,” Clint says. “You’re right.”</p><p>“Problem is, he’s never gonna shut up about wanting to meet her now,” Bucky says with a sigh, idly carding his fingers through Clint’s mess of hair. Clint arches up into the touch, the smug look on his face as he’s being pet reminding Bucky of a cat, and he figures he’s going to have to make up for this later. </p><p>It’s not like taking Clint out is a hardship anyway; despite the unconventional nature of… <em> whatever </em> they’re doing here, Bucky’s not lying about not picking favourites. He kind of fell into bed with both of them, but he <em> likes </em>what they have.</p><p>“How about we go to laser tag later?”</p><p>“Ice cream after?”</p><p>“Ice cream after,” Bucky agrees and Clint reaches up to pat his face, apparently cheered up by that. He’s easy to please. It’s too bad the laser tag venue doesn’t open at two in the morning; they could go now. That’s one of the downsides of dating night owls (<em> morning </em> owls, really - it’s usually ass o’clock when they tell him they’re up and around.)</p><p>“Is Steve as much fun as you are?” Bucky scrunches up his nose in Natasha’s direction at the question and she smirks, just a little. He knows she’s just teasing him, but. Ew. </p><p>“Please don’t seduce my best friend,” he says to her.</p><p>“You seduced mine,” Natasha reasons with a wave at the lapful of hot and blond he’s got right now. “Fair’s fair, Barnes.”</p><p>“Technically I sucked him off in the bathroom of a movie theatre, which is <em> not </em>the same thing,” Bucky says. “Steve’s just - I love him, but he’s too much already. He’ll start wanting group dates to the park and matching bracelets. If you want to sleep with him, I’m out.”</p><p>“Ooh, ultimatum. Very take-charge, Mister Barnes,” Clint says. </p><p>“Not an ultimatum,” Bucky corrects, flicking Clint’s nose. “Just setting boundaries.”</p><p>“Ow! Fine.”</p><p>“Don’t whine, he didn’t actually hurt you,” Natasha says without looking up. “And fine. I won’t seduce your boy, I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“This is a public place,” Bucky hisses. </p><p>“That doesn’t usually bother you,” Clint says. </p><p>The lights from their vests are washing his skin and hair blue and there’s a half-feral grin to him that makes Clint look <em> alien </em> here. (Bucky finds it kind of hot, because of course he does.) If Bucky angles himself right it almost looks like Clint’s eyes are glowing too and he’d been a little worried, but that was before they got squashed in a corner of the laser tag venue and Bucky became preoccupied with <em> other </em>things. </p><p>They’re in a spot where there’s a wall blocking them from the rest of the playing field. That doesn’t alleviate Bucky’s concerns in the slightest because Clint’s got his fingers wrapped around his dick, calluses rubbing up against his skin. Bucky’s trying very hard to remain rational and stop Clint’s shenanigans but his hand is so <em> nice </em>and Bucky’s rapidly losing the capacity for thought.</p><p>(The idea of getting caught makes his skin prickle with embarrassment, but there’s also a thrill to it that he absolutely <em> cannot </em>admit to Clint.)</p><p>“There’s security cameras,” Bucky argues. “You want a bunch of people looking at your junk when you’re in court for public indecency?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Clint answers distractedly and Bucky’s about to say what when. He gets as far as opening his mouth to say it before Clint’s weird glowy eyes flick over his shoulder at something. </p><p>Clint moves faster than Bucky’s brain can process, dropping to his knees and pulling the cheap plastic gun up between Bucky’s knees. It’s fluid and predatory, something in his brain shivering away from how smoothly Clint moves. There’s a sad-sounding beep and then an expletive from the guy that’s just been shot, and somehow Clint’s other hand is still steady on Bucky’s dick. </p><p>The guy clearly hadn’t seen anything because he would’ve <em> said </em>, surely, and there’s nothing to see from that angle. It’s just the fly of Bucky’s skinny jeans that are unzipped and he’s facing the wall. </p><p>Bucky’s heart might have stopped.</p><p>“I think my team is winning,” Clint says cheerfully. </p><p>Bucky looks down at him. </p><p>Clint grins. </p><p>Something clicks. “Were you just using me as a human shield this whole time, you heartless monster?”</p><p>“No,” Clint says, very unconvincingly. He maintains eye contact as he leans in to press his mouth to the head of Bucky’s dick, almost like he’s trying an apology kiss. Clint’s lips are soft, a little wet and his eyes are alight with something dangerous. He’s harmless - Bucky <em> knows </em>he’s harmless, but his skin breaks out in goosebumps anyway and he has to stop himself from shivering.</p><p>Something bumps the back of Bucky’s vest near his tailbone and then the blue light on Clint’s face turns red. </p><p>“Gotcha,” Clint says, and the sensation on his dick is fantastic but Clint Barton is a terrible, <em> terrible </em>person.</p><p>“You owe me like five blowjobs for this,” Bucky says.</p><p>“Sure,” Clint answers cheerfully, manages to lick a stripe up Bucky’s dick before he’s forcibly tugged away by his hair. </p><p>“Not here.”</p><p>“Bathroom?”</p><p>“...bathroom.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Fuck <em> me </em> , Steve, why do we even put up with Stark? I know he’s a genius and all but we could totally get that kid from down the street to fix my arm and I could get a job literally <em> anywhere </em>else,” Bucky says as he throws his jacket at the coat rack and heads for the fridge. “She’s only twelve but I’m tellin’ you, she’s got a brain the size of the moon. I reckon she’s going to overtake Tony in a few years and she’s a hell of a lot less annoying.”</p><p>Of course, then he’d have to get his arm adjusted during the day instead of just showing up at Tony’s office after work. He’d missed dinner because Tony had started talking his ear off. It’s already dark outside and he’s looking forward to a nap before he heads out again.</p><p>There’s a carton of apple juice marked <em> STEVE </em>in giant block letters. Score. He grabs it and chugs half the contents before he turns away from the fridge. </p><p>“I mean really, how is <em> one man </em>that obnoxious? I swear-”</p><p>He stops with the juice held halfway to his mouth as he takes in the scene in front of him, lips parted in shock. </p><p>“Good afternoon, James,” Natasha greets. </p><p>“Your girlfriend came to visit while you were out,” Steve announces cheerfully. He’s beaming so hard it must hurt his face, but that hasn’t stopped him. </p><p>“I can see that,” Bucky says.  </p><p>They’re seated at one corner of the rickety dining table, two glasses and a bottle of wine open with half the contents missing. Natasha’s all dressed up; short black dress with long sleeves, dark red lipstick and artfully tousled hair. Bucky notices she’s still wearing the tiny arrow necklace she carries around despite changing everything else. </p><p>Bucky puts down the juice and squints at her. Steve is oblivious to his clear displeasure and proceeds to smile at Natasha some more as he pours the wine for her. They’re using the good glasses, too; the wine must’ve been something Natasha brought with her because Steve’s just drinking water from his - he won’t drink on weekdays, but he likes the fancy glasses - and her glass is filled with something deep, dark red.</p><p>Curious.</p><p>“She’s lovely,” Steve continues. “I don’t know why you were hiding her from me.”</p><p>“And I can’t believe you were hiding such a wonderful man,” Natasha says, somehow perfectly copying Steve’s expression on her own face. It’s eerie. Bucky hates it. </p><p>“Join us, Buck,” Steve says. “We were just talking about what it was like growing up in Brooklyn.”</p><p>“It’s interesting. I grew up in Tsaritsyn myself,” Natasha replies. </p><p>Steve leans forward. “Oh? Where’s that?” </p><p>“Russia.”</p><p>“You don’t have the accent,” Steve points out curiously. “Did it take a lot of work to change that?”</p><p>“Not at all. I find it quite fun. James, won’t you sit down with us? You haven’t even greeted me yet.”</p><p>“Hi there, Natasha. How are you, Natasha,” Bucky manages to say without gritting his teeth too hard. He rounds the counter, braces his arm on the table as he presses a kiss to her cheek. He smells something coppery for a second, can’t figure out what it is and shrugs it off. The satisfaction and amusement is coming off of her in waves. “You <em> surprised </em>me, Natasha.”</p><p>“A nice surprise?”</p><p>“Of course,” Bucky says flatly, eyeing her off. </p><p>“Steve’s been telling me all about the things you two used to get up to,” Natasha says, covering Bucky’s hand with her own on the table. Her fingers are cold and she’s painted her fingernails the same shade of neon yellow as Clint’s t-shirt. </p><p>“I have cute baby photos,” Steve supplies. “Bucky’s ma gave me all the photo albums when they moved to the countryside. I keep ‘em in a safe.”</p><p>“Steve, if you love me…” Bucky says. </p><p>“I bet James was a cute baby,” Natasha cuts in because she’s horrible, and Bucky covers his face with his hands. This is why he can’t pick favourites, because they’re both complete <em> menaces </em>and while he does like them so much (more than anyone else he’s been with) he finds himself questioning why they’re worth it after all.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Nat, where are you keeping the- oh hey, Bucky. ”</p><p>“Hey,” Bucky says distractedly. “What do you want?”</p><p>“Doritos,” Clint replies. </p><p>“They’re not in here.”</p><p>“Yeah, they are. Nat hides them so I can’t eat them all in one sitting. I know you’re busy, but can you just…”</p><p>Bucky turns to eye off Clint, who looks like he’s sleepwalking despite it being daytime. Still, he doesn’t look like he’s going to give up until he gets the chips. </p><p>Bucky sighs and then tugs the knot of black cloth under his fingers, letting it loosen before he tugs the gag down Natasha’s chin. She licks her lips at him, pupils still a little blown. </p><p>Probably something to do with Bucky’s fingers being inside her.</p><p>“Left drawer,” she says. “In the hollowed-out copy of Team Human.”</p><p>“Sneaky,” Clint notes. </p><p>“I have to be. You don’t seem to understand the concept of <em> sharing </em>, Barton.”</p><p>“I share,” Clint says defensively. “Alright, you guys can go back to whatever this is, thanks for the chips.”</p><p>Bucky looks at Natasha, who blinks back at him. She’d answered the question easily enough, but there’s a slightly glazed look to her eyes. “Colour?”</p><p>“Green,” she says. “I hope you know this is only encouraging me to misbehave more often.”</p><p>Bucky leans forward to catch a nipple in his teeth - not nearly hard enough to sting but enough to feel it - swipes his tongue over it and listens to the quiet sigh Natasha releases. Her legs spread a little more, knees squeezing at Bucky’s hips as he takes the unspoken hint and starts moving his fingers again. </p><p>He noses his way up to her collarbone, nips at the pale line of her neck. Natasha’s squirming more now and he’s satisfied with the little noise she makes when she tugs at the handcuffs and they hold still, not letting her touch him back. It’s a shame he can’t feel much with his left hand - Bucky’s pretty sure she likes the metal, though.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says in her ear quietly. “But now if you decide to cause problems on purpose, I’m <em> not </em>going to do this. And I can tell how much you like it.”</p><p>“Fine,” Natasha answers breathlessly. “Fine, I won’t surprise you anymore, I’m-”</p><p>A bag crinkles.</p><p>“She’s lying,” Clint says through a mouthful of Doritos. “Just so you know.”</p><p>“Go <em> away </em>, Clint.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Okay,” Bucky says, and stops pacing. “Okay, Steve won’t shut up about Natasha and I feel bad about it, so do you want to come to a work thing with me at Stark Industries?”</p><p>“Work thing? - oh, you <em> motherfucker </em>, I’m going to blow you to smithereens.”</p><p>Bucky distantly thinks that maybe it was a bad idea to try and get Clint’s attention in the middle of his morning Mortal Kombat tournament. (Morning being three am, as you do. He’s got a strange fixation for Mileena’s Vampiress skin.) Clint’s eyes are fixed on the screen and his fingers are moving faster than should be physically possible, and there’s a scream from the speakers. </p><p>“Yeah,” Clint says, satisfied. “That’s right. Call me grandpa again, you little shit. I’ll outlive you and your kids and then I’ll dance on their graves, just you watch.”</p><p>“Are you bullying children on the internet again?”</p><p>“He’s like thirty,” Clint replies frustratedly. “Bullseye’s a dick, I’ve met him in real life before. He keeps making old jokes around me.”</p><p>Bucky mentally reassesses how old he actually thought Clint was and then returns to his earlier question.</p><p>“There’ll be free dinner,” Bucky says and instantly Clint’s gaze snaps to him. He’s still pressing buttons as he does it, but Bucky’s satisfied that he has Clint’s attention even as a voice booms <em> BRUTALITY </em>at them. </p><p>Should’ve known that food would do the trick. Clint’s interests are pretty easy to figure out - he likes food, sex, Natasha, Bucky, competitive gaming and also archery, if the worn bow and the hole-ridden targets in his bedroom are any indication. All that food and lying on the couch and somehow he’s still got abs to die for. Bucky hates him for it, a little bit. He has to go to the gym like a normal person.</p><p>“What kind of dinner?”</p><p>“Dunno,” Bucky answers. “It’s Stark, though. You’d think he’d have rich people food but chances are we’ll have burgers and shakes.”</p><p>“I like burgers and shakes,” Clint says. </p><p>“I know you do.”</p><p>“Do I have to wear a suit?”</p><p>“Nope,” Bucky replies. “Maybe some pants, though.”</p><p>“You’re telling me people don’t want to see these legs?” Clint lifts one up in the air for emphasis. </p><p>Bucky looks because he has to look, because Clint’s right and his legs are indeed <em> very </em>nice, but that’s not the point. “Please don’t seduce my boss, you’re just as bad as Natasha. All I’m saying is that the place has a dress standard and the dress standard includes covering your junk with more than a pair of boxers old enough to be see-through.”</p><p>“You ruin all my fun, Bucky Barnes,” Clint answers distantly. </p><p>“Sure I do,” Bucky replies, dropping down on the couch next to him. “Pass me a controller, fight me instead of this guy.”</p><p>“You’re not allowed to call me grandpa either,” Clint says. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, alright. I promise. Start the game.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Oh, sweet polyamory,” Tony says when Bucky enters. “Where’s the other one?”</p><p>“The other one? What-”</p><p>“He got my phone number from Steve and insisted I make an appearance,” Natasha says from the other side of the table. She looks surprisingly apologetic (and a little bewildered) and Bucky’s willing to believe that Tony strong-armed her into it. The evidence that cements his guess is that despite the crisp button-up and the makeup, he can see Natasha’s wearing Garfield socks under the table.</p><p>“Clint needed to go to the bathroom,” Bucky says distractedly. </p><p>Technically Bucky had sent Clint to the bathroom to try and dab off the chocolate sauce on his shirt, but he’s not going to tell Tony that. Natasha looks like she already knows exactly what happened. </p><p>“So!” Tony claps his hands together. “Tell me about yourself, Natalie.”</p><p>“Natasha."</p><p>“Natasha! I just bought some art from a woman named Natasha,” Tony says. “Technically my Pepper - she’s the CEO now, I promoted her - bought it but she runs my life so I just let her decorate my house as well. Also my underwear drawer. Do you want her to buy anything for you?”</p><p>“Do <em> not </em> start buying underwear for my-” Bucky starts, then stops as he realizes he’s not sure <em> what </em>to call Natasha.</p><p>Natasha’s fine, anyway. “No, thank you. Do you need people to run your life, Mister Stark?”</p><p>“Pretty much,” Tony admits without a lick of shame. “Are you looking for a job?”</p><p>“So I think I just fucked up my shirt more,” Clint whispers and Bucky jumps, nearly trips over his own feet. How does he move so silently? It’s like he’s a goddamn ghost, what the fuck. </p><p>Clint’s right about his shirt, though - wiping at it might’ve actually made it <em> worse </em>. The man’s a goddamn disaster. Bucky sighs and unbuttons his work jacket, passes it over. It bunches awkwardly on Clint’s arms but the smile it earns him is worth it, and Bucky ignores the weird flutter inside his chest. Clint and his goddamned smiles. </p><p>“Hello? Are you two going to sit down or are you going to moon at each other all night?”</p><p>“I could keep looking,” Bucky says, watches Clint’s expression soften. Unfortunately the glasses are set up in a way that he has to sit next to Natasha and then Clint sits opposite them. (Bucky prefers being stuck between them, if he’s honest.)</p><p>Once they’re sat down, Tony gives them all a contemplative look. “Alright! Burgers. I suppose you three will want to share a milkshake and be all romantic?”</p><p>“This was supposed to be about work, Stark,” Bucky says dryly. “Anyway, you’re overestimating us. They won’t be able to decide on one flavour.”</p><p>“I want chocolate,” Natasha says.</p><p>“Banana,” Clint cuts in.</p><p>“My point exactly,” Bucky says, gesturing at both of them. They smirk at him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“So how did you two get together?” Tony asks, gesturing between Natasha and Clint. </p><p>Bucky’s tired. It’s been <em> two hours </em>and they’ve not said a word about their research department. The folder full of blueprints has remained untouched on the table the whole time and Bucky’s considering just cutting his losses and suggesting they go home. So much for the upgraded security system he’d spent all day plotting out.</p><p>His lactose-free shake is gone and he’s five seconds from taking a nap in his chair. It feels like Tony’s enamoured enough that he’s about to hand Natasha a job, and Clint’s preoccupied by stealing her fries. She knows he’s doing it though, and the next time he tries to snag one Natasha simply stabs her straw into his hand.</p><p>"Oh, no," Natasha says without looking. "Clint and I aren't together."</p><p>"Never have been, never will be," Clint agrees, taking his hand back like nothing happened. "We share a house, a wardrobe and a Bucky, but we’re strictly best friends for life."</p><p>"Sometimes they high-five each other during sex," Bucky adds, because he has to have something to say here. "It's ridiculous."</p><p>"It's called moral support," Clint answers primly. Natasha snorts and then rolls her eyes at him - Bucky's got no idea why she's acting like that because <em> she's </em>usually the one giving the high-fives. (Clint’s bedroom is the one with the big en suite bathroom and Natasha likes the shower in there regardless of what’s going on in the bedroom.)</p><p>Tony gestures at all three of them. “How does <em> this </em>work then?”</p><p>“It’s like-” Clint holds up two fingers in a V-shape, tapping his fingertips and then the spot between his fingers to illustrate. “That’s me, that’s Nat. Bucky’s here.”</p><p>“I think it’s nice,” Pepper says from her spot at the end of the table, where she’s been typing for the last half an hour. Occasionally she’ll make Tony sign something. </p><p>When she looks away Clint sticks his tongue through his fingers and wiggles his eyebrows at Bucky. </p><p>Unfortunately it’s just as Bucky’s taking a drink of his water and he ends up spraying it across the table as Clint cackles at him. Natasha reaches over to pat his back as he’s coughing and spluttering, trying to expel errant water from his lungs where it’s decidedly not meant to be. </p><p>He’s sure as hell not going to explain what just happened to Tony (mostly because Tony would fall in love with Clint too) so he makes a bolt for the bathroom as soon as he can breathe again.</p><p>His shirt’s covered in water. Great. Now he knows god hates him, or at least his - partners? - do. He wipes it off as best he can and hopes Tony hasn’t stolen them away while he’s not paying attention.</p><p>“So you’re not always babysitting these two,” Tony is saying to Natasha when he returns. “Say, how do you feel about-”</p><p>“Not a chance,” Natasha replies. “I’d like to go home sometime before sunrise, Mister Stark. Why don’t Clint and I look at your art collection while Bucky tells you about the work he’s been doing?”</p><p>“I don’t know anything about ar- <em> ow </em>! Okay, okay, we’re going to look at paintings. See you soon, Buck.”</p><p>“Have fun,” Natasha says. “Don’t take too long.”</p><p>Bucky watches them disappear around the corner. He’s pretty sure Natasha was physically <em> dragging </em>Clint those first couple of steps and it makes him wonder how much she works out daily, to get the kind of strength necessary for that.</p><p>“So,” Tony says, leaning closer with a spark of interest in his eyes. “Have you told Steve you’re dating a pair of vampires?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Is this a jealousy thing, Stark?”</p><p>“If I was jealous I’d just tell you,” Tony reasons. Which, yeah. That seems like something he’d do. “And I am jealous because they’re super-hot but there is something funky about both of them and you cannot deny it.”</p><p>“I am denying it,” Bucky says.</p><p>“I am right and I will prove it,” Tony replies, pointing a finger at him.</p><p>“Yeah, alright, except vampires ain’t real.”</p><p>“I’m not getting this from nowhere, Barnes. Let me lay this out for you,” Tony says. “My father had an assistant called Natalie when I was a kid. She looked just like your girl. Also, I checked the records before you got here and neither of them have any record of existing. There was a Clinton Francis Barton alive in Iowa in the eighteen hundreds and that’s <em> it </em>.”</p><p>Bucky instantly regrets giving their full names and details to security now. Of <em> course </em>Tony had gone nosing around in it.</p><p>“Natasha’s Russian and I’m pretty sure that’s where she met Clint,” he reasons. “Also, what the fuck? Are you hacking government things again, Stark? We nearly got arrested the last time you tried that, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“I’ll give you that one, but hear me out. They were weirdly - like <em> uncomfortably </em>- fascinated with my beets smoothie, and Natasha’s eerily pale,” Tony says. “Also, Steve says you’re always out late.”</p><p>“Yeah? So?”</p><p>“You’ve never had a morning date with either of them? Or lunch? Or… daytime at all?”</p><p>“They’re night owls,” Bucky reasons. “So are you. You’re <em> always </em>online when I get back to the apartment at four in the morning, don’t tell me you’re a hypocrite as well as a nutjob.”</p><p>“I spend all that time at work,” Tony says. “What do they do?”</p><p>Play video games and read, mostly. Have sex with Bucky. Once he’d caught Clint making his own comic book with a pink marker and an old journal. (Clint is not an artist. He <em> is </em>surprisingly good at writing funny dialogue, though, and Bucky had found himself getting emotionally invested in the adventures of Hawk Guy and Widow Woman.)</p><p>“Alright, next question. Where did you meet them?”</p><p>“A club,” Bucky says, a little defensive. “That’s normal.”</p><p>Tony raises an eyebrow. “What kind of club, Barnes? Were they having an event?”</p><p>“...goth night,” Bucky relents.</p><p>“I’m telling you, there’s something weird going on with those two,” Tony says.”Fifty bucks says they’re vampires.”</p><p>“Natasha reads Twilight,” Bucky answers, exasperated. “What kind of a vampire reads Twilight?”</p><p>“A vampire who’s <em> nothing </em>like the characters in that book, and thinks it’s hilarious. Imagine you’re an immortal blood-drinking monster and some human woman insists that you sparkle in the sunlight and play baseball in full uniform to Muse songs. Wouldn’t you find it funny?”</p><p>Actually, he has a point there. </p><p>“We’re done here, Barnes - I already trust you to take care of your department, so I approved everything before we had dinner. All I’m saying is that you should watch your neck around those two,” Tony says.</p><p>“My neck is fine because they’re <em> not vampires </em>. And thank you.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Dibs on Bucky,” both Clint and Natasha say the second they get through the door. “Hey!”</p><p>Bucky figures they’re going to be a while, so he kicks his boots off at the door and then throws his jacket at the couch. His phone pings and he slides it out to tell Steve he’s just going to sleep here tonight because he’s exhausted. If neither Clint or Natasha want to share, he’ll just pass out on the couch. </p><p>As he’s wandering in the direction of the stairs he notices a door that’s been locked and shut every other time he’s visited. </p><p>It’s only ajar a couple of inches, but it’s open now. Bucky pauses with one socked foot on the first stair and then slowly tips back so he can see what’s inside. </p><p>It’s dark in the room but there’s a faint white glow coming from within, and as he tips further he sees what looks like a freezer. This particular freezer is so big that it fills half the room though, and- </p><p>-he nearly falls on his ass when Clint wraps around him. Cold air ruffes the hair by his ear and his skin raises in goosebumps for no reason. “We both kept picking scissors in rock, paper, scissors, so we’re calling a truce and sharing. Want to put on a shitty horror movie and cuddle?”</p><p>“You’re letting Natasha pick the movie?”</p><p>If Clint had the choice they’d be watching a rom-com or a musical. “She promised to get more of the fancy coffee tomorrow if I didn’t make her watch Hairspray again.”</p><p>“That seems reasonable,” Bucky says, rearranges Clint’s limbs so he won’t trip over them as he backs off the stairs and heads back to the couch. Clint stays draped over him like a shawl, only making the minimum amount of effort required not to fall over or trip Bucky. He’s fucking <em> heavy </em>. “What the hell do you eat, rocks?”</p><p>“Replace the R with a C,” Clint replies, and Bucky rolls his eyes and dumps Clint on the floor. He does offer a hand to help him up again though - he’s not a <em> monster </em>- and Clint takes it, lets the steel fingers pull him back on his feet. </p><p>“That was <em> awful </em>. Shut up. No more speaking.”</p><p>Clint’s still smirking at him and Bucky grimaces, walks over to the couch and sits down. </p><p>Immediately a pair of cold feet land in his lap and he sighs pointedly at a smug-looking Natasha before he wraps his hands around them, presses his fingertips into a pressure point. A second later Clint drops down next to him and snuggles into his side, clicks the button to get the ancient-looking DVD player going.</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Bucky says as he remembers. “What’s in that freezer thing?”</p><p>Neither of them tense up or react in any negative way, really, but Bucky gets the distinct feeling that he’s asked the wrong question anyway. It’s the same feeling he got when he asked Sam about the brown-haired guy on his laptop screensaver.</p><p>Clint yawns so hard his jaw cracks audibly and Natasha wiggles her toes before she answers him. “Fish bait, mostly. Gift from the person who lived here before us.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen you fish.”</p><p>“That’s why we’ve got a freezer full of it,” Natasha says. “It stinks. Barton, get up and close the door before the whole place smells like it died by the sea.”</p><p>“Later,” Clint mutters, waving a hand at her dismissively. </p><p>Fish bait. Weird.</p><p>If Tony was here, he’d probably say there’s a dead body in there or something.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Spare parts in the goddamn bad part of town,” Bucky mutters to himself. “Oh yeah, you’re the supervisor, you have to go find the tiny little thingamajigs for us. Why don’t you take a nice walk down a dark alleyway and get mugged, Mister Barnes?”</p><p>He’s never been to the address that one of the workers had scrawled down on an old StarkTech notepad. Come to think of it, he’s never been anywhere in this part of town. It’s kind of eerie - he hasn’t seen another person in a while, and it looks like the streets are completely deserted. Most of the shop fronts are empty and Bucky’s unnerved by it all. </p><p>Maybe sending him here was a prank. Sometimes Sam does that just for the hell of it, because he’s a dick. If only murder as payback was legal. Bucky considers letting him test those prototype wing packs they have. That doesn’t count, right? He signed a form. </p><p>Shit, this tech place has to be around here somewhere. The sun’s low in the sky and he just wants to go home. There’s a beer waiting for him in the fridge, if Steve hasn’t drunk them already. </p><p>Bucky’s so focused on trying to find the place that he barely notices the man in the suit leaning up against a wall, and he jumps so hard he nearly gives himself brain damage when the guy speaks. “Long day?”</p><p>“Aren’t they always,” Bucky answers distractedly, looking down at the address again. Is that supposed to be a <em> G </em> or a <em> Y </em>? </p><p>“Summer’s the worst for it,” the man says conversationally. “All that sunlight. Of course, it’s probably not that bad for you, is it?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s just that you smell old, is all. Sun doesn't sting as much when you're an ancient. Early Modern Period, I’m guessing?”</p><p>Bucky looks up from his piece of paper. </p><p>The man smiles at him. Now Bucky’s looking, he can see the guy’s standing directly in a small patch of shade, twisted so none of the sunlight hits his body. He looks like a perfectly nice man but the words coming out of his mouth still make all kinds of no sense. Bucky’s getting the heebie-jeebies.</p><p>“I’m leaving now,” he informs the man, and starts walking again. </p><p>Thankfully the guy doesn’t follow him.</p><p>He smells <em> old </em>?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“You’re working late.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Bucky answers. </p><p>“Not hanging out with your pets?”</p><p>“They’re busy tonight,” he replies, not looking over as he types extra data into one of the boxes on the screen. </p><p>Technically he’s only supposed to be supervising - until they get the prosthetic one hundred percent working, he’s a risk (after he broke the fifth computer, they decided it was for the best) - but he came back tonight to realize they were behind schedule. </p><p>Tony probably doesn’t care how long they take. Bucky does care because he’s got <em> standards </em>and they’re not going to slip because he lost an arm a year ago. He didn’t spend all those years in engineering and various science classes to sit on his ass and waste it. </p><p>“Shame,” Tony says, wheeling his chair closer. “You think it’s got something to do with the full moon?”</p><p>“This shit again?” Bucky swivels slightly without taking his right hand off the keyboard, braces the toe of his boot against Tony’s seat and pushes him away. “That’s not even vampires, that’s <em> werewolves </em>. Leave me alone.”</p><p>It works for all of five seconds, because Tony can just scooch closer again. “Actually, in a lot of lore vampires are strongest when the full moon’s out.”</p><p>Bucky finishes typing up the last sentence he was on and turns around to glare at Tony, hoping he can feel every last inch of irritation that Bucky is feeling on the inside. He just wants to finish his work and not think about how he misses his - <em> whatevers </em>- even though it’s been two days and god, he’s getting real fucking clingy, isn’t he? That’s embarrassing.</p><p>Tony is unaware of Bucky’s displeasure at his presence; that, or he knows and he just doesn’t care, which is equally as likely. He’s also balancing a laptop on his knees. (It means he’s probably planning to be here for a while. Of <em> course </em>he is.)</p><p>“Stark.”</p><p>“Yeah, Buckaroo?”</p><p>“Go away.”</p><p>“I thought you’d say that, which is why I brought more evidence,” Tony says. “Also, whiskey.”</p><p>Hmm. Whiskey.</p><p>“You’ve got ten minutes,” Bucky says, kicking his feet up on the desk. </p><p>Tony accepts those rules without complaint, looks up at the clock on the wall before he gets off the chair. He moves remarkably quickly (not Clint levels of fast, but fast nonetheless) when he wants to, and a minute later Bucky’s accepting the glass from him. Again Bucky finds himself wondering how Tony Stark is the boss here, because he sure as hell doesn’t act like one.</p><p>The whiskey’s nice, though. </p><p>“I have no idea why you’re so invested in this.”</p><p>“It’s interesting! So,” Tony says when he sits down again. “I know where I’ve seen Natasha-slash-Natalie-slash-whatever her real name is-”</p><p>“Her name’s Natasha.”</p><p>“-yes, okay. But I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen the other one before, and I know I’ve seen him somewhere. I wracked my brains and it just wasn’t coming, and then Pepper - beautiful, perfect Pepper - mentioned that the new art pieces were upstairs and I remembered.”</p><p>“Don’t call him the <em> other </em>one.”</p><p>“It’s from the seventeenth century,” Tony says. </p><p>“Oh, fuck <em> off </em>, Stark.”</p><p>“I’m not kidding you right now,” Tony tells him, turning his laptop around to show Bucky a museum’s website, with an ancient-looking painting of a strikingly familiar red-haired woman and a similarly familiar blond draped over her shoulders. “Whoever those people are that you’re sleeping with, they’re not human.”</p><p>Bucky thinks about throwing his drink at Tony. </p><p>It’d be a waste of a good drink, though.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Bad day?”</p><p>“Bad day, bad night,” Bucky answers. “Bad boss.”</p><p>“I thought he was interesting,” Natasha says dryly, and Bucky snorts. “Come help me with the vegetables. What’s he done now?”</p><p>“I thought you were banned from the kitchen after last time,” Bucky says.</p><p>He rinses off his hands in the sink, looks around for a towel to dry them off on. There’s no sign of one, so he makes do with shaking them vigorously and then wiping the excess water on his jeans. Ignoring Natasha’s judgemental stare is par for the course. He takes the knife she passes him and starts working on the peeled carrots that are laid out. </p><p>“I can make sandwiches just fine, thank you,” Natasha replies. </p><p>Bucky sees the bread laid out a second later. Yeah, that makes more sense. For some reason neither of them can cook worth shit - Natasha’s more likely to eat healthy food than Clint is, but their kitchen is still shamefully bare. The oven’s never even been used, Bucky’s pretty sure.</p><p>Clint’s nowhere to be seen, he notices vaguely. Must be giving him and Natasha some alone time. That’s sweet of him.</p><p>“Tony likes sticking his nose in other people’s business,” Bucky says eventually. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, but he’s… you know.”</p><p>“Obnoxious?”</p><p>“Nah. He’s just not great at the whole boundaries thing.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Natasha says. There’s a beat of thoughtful silence as Bucky catches a tomato before it rolls off the counter, cuts it into thin slices, and then Natasha speaks again in a knowing voice. “You’re a good friend to him.”</p><p>“I am <em> not </em>,” Bucky protests weakly as her lips brush his ear, pressing against his jaw briefly. “He’s not my friend, he’s a pain in the ass.”</p><p>“I think you like him, deep down,” Natasha replies. She’s <em> right </em>, but Bucky doesn’t like being called out on it. He’d rather just continue complaining about Tony for the rest of his career without talking about the late-night mad science theories and the amount of punching bags and alcohol they’ve gone through together.</p><p>“I’m- <em> fuck </em>,” and his train of thought is lost as he slips and accidentally slices into his finger. </p><p>Bucky lets out a muttered train of swearwords as he drops the knife. And there’s no towels to wrap around his hand, shit. It’s deep enough that the blood is welling up on his skin rapidly and he’s going to make a mess if he doesn’t do something.</p><p>“Have you got tissues around here or something? I’m-”</p><p>Natasha grabs his wrist (when did she get so <em> close </em>?) with an iron grip that’s shockingly strong, not that he’s fighting it. If he was it’d be futile, because she’s not letting go of him. The blood’s spilling down his finger and Natasha lifts his injured hand up to her face, inspects it with the kind of intense focus that almost burns, and then she licks her lips.</p><p>“Natasha?”</p><p>She doesn’t answer.</p><p>Bucky’s heart is beating so fast he feels like he’s going to pass out, and then- </p><p>“Have you had your tetanus shots?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Tetanus,” Natasha repeats. “I don’t want you getting sick.” </p><p>“I- yeah, I had those,” Bucky says vaguely. </p><p>He feels like he’s in a daze as Natasha guides him over to the sink and gently rinses the blood off with cold water. She instructs him to stay there while she finds a bandaid and Bucky’s left staring down at his own fingers with bewilderment, because he’d been expecting something entirely different to happen. </p><p>Something like Natasha sinking her magical vampire fangs into his flesh. </p><p>Oh god, he’s started buying into Tony’s bullshit. What’s wrong with him?</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I have better things to do on my day off than chase you around, you know,” Sam says. </p><p>“No you don’t,” Bucky replies, pulling his hood up over his head to obscure his face. He’s also got a giant pair of fuck-off aviator glasses. “Anyway, I’m your boss. You have to stay on my good side.”</p><p>“Technically we have the same security clearance. It’s just that you suck up to Stark enough for a promotion.”</p><p>“I do <em> not </em>.”</p><p>Sam rolls his eyes rather than arguing back. Bucky’s vaguely tempted to kick his chair out from under him and then pretend it was the wind, except he’d asked Sam to come here for a <em> reason </em>and it’s no good if Sam gets fed up and leaves. Then he’d have to do this alone. (He doesn’t want to do this alone.)</p><p>Bucky glances around and then grabs the back of Sam’s jacket, tugs him into a small alcove.</p><p>Sam glares at him. “You’re pushing your luck, Barnes.”</p><p>“We can’t be seen,” Bucky hisses. “Was that not obvious from the text I sent you?”</p><p>“Your text made it sound like I had to come to take you to a mental institution,” Sam says flatly. “I didn’t think you <em> actually </em>wanted me to help stalk your boyfriend because Tony Stark thinks he’s a vampire, and you need to prove him wrong.”</p><p>When he says it like that… ah, whatever. It’s too late for judgement now. It’s not like he cares what Sam Wilson thinks of him anyway, which is why Bucky texted him and not any of the other people he talks to. (The only other people he talks to are Steve and Tony anyway.)</p><p>Bucky knows he’s being weird, but he also woke up (in his own bed) at five o’clock after an extremely vivid nightmare in which Clint and Natasha killed him and kept his corpse in the giant fish bait freezer. He spent half an hour looking for suspicious bug bites on his throat, and he even made Steve check the spots he couldn’t reach.</p><p>He might be going mad. </p><p>So much for his anxiety getting better.</p><p>“Yeah,” Bucky says. Oh well. “That’s about it. Look around the corner, what’s he doing now?”</p><p>“He just dropped his slice of pizza on the ground,” Sam answers distractedly, and Bucky can hear Clint’s dejected <em> aw </em>from here. “So much for th- oh, never mind, he’s picked it off the floor again. You seriously made out with this guy?”</p><p>“You don’t know him,” Bucky says defensively. </p><p>“I know he eats food off of the sidewalk,” Sam says, side-eyes him. “You’re gonna make him use mouthwash before you kiss him, right?”</p><p>“...yes?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m not sharing food with you anymore.”</p><p>“That’s fair,” Bucky agrees, somewhat reluctantly. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t like you,” Sam says, two hours later. </p><p>“That’s your problem.”</p><p>“We have been chasing this guy around the city the whole afternoon and he has done nothing suspicious,” Sam grumbles. “He’s clearly a hot mess and I don’t know <em> why </em>you like him, but there’s nothing supernatural about him.”</p><p>“Yeah, well,” Bucky says, and then ducks sharply as Clint turns around. He nearly falls into the hedge he’s crouching behind and Sam sighs at him before pulling out his phone to presumably begin texting someone. He can get away with that, though. Clint doesn’t know who Sam is. </p><p>“I thought vampires hated the sun,” Sam says. </p><p>Bucky peeks over the hedge to see Clint sprawled out on the grass in the middle of the park. He’s in a spot with no trees so his tanned skin is bathed in the light, highlighting his hair and catching off the silvery bangle on his wrist. </p><p>A woman walking her dog gives him a funny look but the dog is interested and starts barking loudly at Clint before it’s dragged away. The next person who walks past with a dog, it starts doing exactly the same thing. Maybe he smells like cats or something.</p><p>“That could be a myth,” Bucky tries. </p><p>“I don’t get it,” Sam says. “Do you <em> want </em>them to be vampires?”</p><p>“What? No. Why would I?”</p><p>“We just spent a whole day following your boyfriend around for nothing,” Sam says. “You owe me a drink. <em> Two </em>, even.”</p><p>“What about Natasha? We could-”</p><p>“Nope. You’re on your own,” Sam replies. “I’m bored as shit, Barnes. Vampires aren’t real.”</p><p>“I know that,” Bucky says. “I’m just trying to prove Tony wrong.”</p><p>“You’re going pretty far for just proving a guy wrong,” Sam remarks. </p><p>Bucky doesn’t deign to answer that. He stands up, inwardly groaning when his knees protest the movement. Sam looks amused by that. Yeah, okay, maybe it’s time to give up and go to a bar. Sam’s been complaining about how he never goes out anymore, Bucky should call Steve and stick them together. Could be interesting to see what happens there.</p><p>“I know a place two blocks away,” he offers. “We could- <em> Jesus Christ </em>.”</p><p>“Just me,” Natasha says from where she’s appeared next to them out of nowhere, catches Bucky around the waist neatly when he nearly falls on his ass. She’s wearing a very large hat. “Fancy seeing you out here.”</p><p>“You must be Natasha,” Sam says thoughtfully. </p><p>The smile he gets for that assumption is slightly predatory. </p><p>Sam doesn’t seem particularly intimidated by Natasha’s sudden presence, even offers his hand for a shake. Natasha takes it - Clint’s painted her fingernails a truly eye-searing shade of orange now - and Sam’s eyebrows lift a little. Probably because Natasha’s grip strength is akin to a coconut crab. </p><p>“Charmed. And you’re… Sam,” she answers decisively.</p><p>“He’s told you about me?”</p><p>“A little,” Natasha replies, and Bucky silently thanks whatever’s out there that she isn’t admitting how often he talks about Sam. (They don’t like admitting they’re friends.) “What are you two up to?”</p><p>“We were just going for a drink,” Sam says smoothly. He’s great at this. “Care to join?”</p><p>“Sure. Why don’t you go get Clint, James?”</p><p>Bucky notices in a distant sort of way that Natasha’s standing directly in the shade - she’s also wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, and she makes no move towards Clint laying in the sunlight. He dismisses the thought a second later.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The next day Bucky manages to trail Natasha for all of five minutes, and that’s as far as he gets. </p><p>She’s very good at vanishing into thin air, as it turns out.</p><p>Funny, that.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t know if Steve liked me,” Clint says. </p><p>“You’re an acquired taste,” Natasha comments.</p><p>He seems to think that over for a second and then shrugs half-heartedly, twisting so he doesn’t accidentally shoulder Bucky while he’s at it. Bucky’s using the opportunity of having Clint sprawled all over his lap to make a thousand little braids in his hair. It doesn’t work that well because Clint’s hair is fairly short, but there’s a long part at the front where he can make it work.</p><p>Natasha’s started helping him with it. Clint’s a slut for anyone’s hands on him, so he seems happy enough with these proceedings as long as he gets to stay where he is. There’s an old rerun of what Bucky thinks is a murder mystery playing on the television - none of them are watching it with any sort of interest, though. </p><p>“I <em> want </em>him to like me,” Clint says. “It’s like getting the parental seal of approval, y’know?”</p><p>“I don’t need anyone’s approval and you don’t either,” Natasha replies, a hint of disdain in her voice. </p><p>The overprotective note in her expression makes Clint smile up at her. “I know I don’t need it. Makes life harder if he doesn’t like me, though.”</p><p>“He liked you fine,” Bucky cuts in. Steve was indeed insufferable after finding out about Clint, but Bucky had felt bad about keeping Clint a secret. It’s worth the interrogation, he figures. “I don’t think he was expecting you to kick his ass at darts, that’s all. He’s been mopping the floor with everyone in the bar for years and then you cleaned him out in one try.”</p><p>“That was fun,” Clint says. It was also kind of ridiculous. </p><p>Steve’s ego is going to be bruised for a while yet, Bucky’s pretty sure. Other than that, it had gone pretty well - Clint’s charming when he doesn’t have a target in front of him. He’s also got no doubt there’ll be a rematch some point in the future. As long as Steve doesn’t get out the extreme frisbees, Clint’s probably going to kick his ass. </p><p>It’ll be interesting. </p><p>“Stark keeps texting me,” Natasha comments.</p><p>“You want me to tell him to knock it off?” If Bucky’s serious enough about it, Tony will listen to him. Maybe. Bucky can hold out some hope.</p><p>“No, it’s fine. I might have lunch with Pepper later this week.”</p><p>Clint blinks up at him then, a faint flicker of anxiety in his eyes. “Is this okay, us being friends with your friends? We can back off if it’s weird or if we’re getting too- you know. It doesn’t have to be a problem.”</p><p>Natasha’s fingers halt in Clint’s hair and when Bucky glances at her she’s making a face. He’s not always the best at reading her expressions but he’s fairly sure getting too <em> you know </em> hadn’t occurred to her before now. Honestly, Bucky hadn’t thought about it in depth either. It’s something to do with the way they fit so seamlessly in his life - he’d never even found it weird in the first place.</p><p>“It’s fine. Kinda wish I could do the same with yours, though.”</p><p>“Sure you could,” Clint says. “Except they’re all rotting in mausoleums.”</p><p>“Ha ha,” Bucky says dryly. He stops when he sees the distant look on Clint’s face. That’s not what he usually does when he’s making a joke about something. But if it’s not a joke - then what the fuck?</p><p>It shouldn’t matter. It’s just a silly offhand comment. But it’s what makes Bucky realize he doesn’t know anything about them. </p><p>Christ, Bucky’s an open book to them. He’s let them meet his childhood friends, his work pals, his boss. They’ve seen his baby photos. Bucky’s spent months curled up on the couch with them, talking about things he’s never told anyone. The accident, the years of therapy after it (confessing in the dark that he thought he was done for, lying in the hot sand with blood soaking into his shirt.) </p><p>He doesn’t know how old they are. He doesn’t know what they do or where they were before they moved here. He doesn’t know if Natasha’s hair is actually that red or whether she dyes it, and he’s got no idea why Clint’s always got bandages on his hands. </p><p>They could be vampires or they could be serial killers, and he’d have no clue.</p><p>“I need to go,” Bucky says suddenly. He nearly dumps Clint on the floor as he scrambles to his feet, ignoring what’s undoubtedly a worried look from Natasha. The skin on the back of his neck is prickling and he knows there’s no fish bait in that freezer. </p><p>He’s panicking, he registers faintly, but that seems less important than getting out of here right this second.</p><p>“Is everything-” Natasha starts. </p><p>Bucky’s already out the door.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>His phone dings again.</p><p>He ignores it.</p><p>“Hi there, Buck,” Steve says cautiously. “How’s it going?”</p><p>Bucky grunts. </p><p>“Rough night?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>There’s a rustling noise from somewhere to his left. Steve’s doing something in the apartment, but Bucky doesn’t bother investigating. He’s been sitting at the table with his forehead resting on his crossed arms since the early hours of the morning and that’s where he plans to stay. Maybe he’ll turn to stone if he doesn’t move. </p><p>Steve doesn’t push him. That’s what makes him realize he must really look like shit, if Steve doesn’t want to interrogate him about it. Worst part is, he wants to talk to someone. As much as he complains about Steve in his business, maybe it’s worth it this once.</p><p>“There’s something weird going on with Clint and Natasha,” Bucky says without lifting his head.</p><p>“Okay,” Steve says, and the chair creaks when he sits down. “Is it a bad kind of weird or a good kind of weird or… neither?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Bucky replies. His voice is muffled by the table. “I don’t know what’s going on.”</p><p>“Okay,” Steve says again. “Is it a dealbreaker?”</p><p>A second later his hand lands on Bucky’s right one, squeezes gently. He’s using that soothing tone of voice that’s usually reserved for when Bucky wakes up cold and shaking on the floor. Steve hasn’t used that voice in months and it’s what makes Bucky open his eyes, realizing something. </p><p>He hasn’t had any nightmares about losing his arm since… </p><p>Well, since he hooked up with Clint and Natasha. He’d worked his way up to mostly functional months before then, but he’d still been plagued by nightmares. It had been normal, waking up tangled in his sheets with his hair plastered to his face by sweat. Now he’s used to Natasha sticking her cold feet between his thighs and Clint’s nose pressed against the back of his neck. </p><p>He kind of. </p><p>He loves them?</p><p>What the hell is he doing, letting Tony get to him? Bucky lifts his head. “Weirdly enough, I don’t think it is.”</p><p>“Alright,” Steve says, pats his hand. “I’m glad.”</p><p>“I gotta go talk to them,” Bucky says.</p><p>“You do,” Steve agrees. “Want me to give you a ride?”</p><p>“Oh, <em> god </em>no. You shouldn’t even have a goddamn license. I’ll take the bus.”</p><p>He finds his boots, drags them on without bothering to fuck around with the laces. Wherever he’d put his sweater when he came home, it’s vanished now, so he grabs Steve’s navy bomber jacket and shrugs that on instead. Steve doesn’t complain. Bucky’s glad, because the bus is going to show up in approximately two minutes and he’s going to have to sprint. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Bucky realizes he’s forgotten his phone once he steps off the bus. This is a problem because firstly he hadn’t looked at any of the texts or missed calls that he’d had before he left and secondly, it looks like Natasha and Clint aren’t home. </p><p>Weird. It’s been a while since he’s come here during the daytime. He presses the buzzer again and then gives up, looks up at an open window. Last time he’d tried to visit during the day they had supposedly been out at the archery range in the next town - that might be where they are now, come to think of it. That, or they’re ignoring him. </p><p>It’d probably be fair if they were. Bucky’s been acting pretty strangely over the last week.</p><p>Oh jeez, what if he’s driven them away? That’d be just his luck.</p><p>“Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself, glances down the street. There’s no one around. It’s a little odd, but everything is a little odd nowadays. </p><p>This particular peculiarity works in Bucky’s favour because it means he can shove an abandoned milk crate against the building and stand on it with no one to judge him. He tries to reach the window from there - unfortunately he’s nowhere near tall enough to reach even in his boots, so he steps down and looks for another crate.</p><p>There’s no second milk crate. There is a slightly weathered-looking box from eBay and he takes that, balances it on top of the milk crate. It still doesn’t look tall enough to his eyes, so he casts around for a third item, can’t spot anything other than a few empty bottles and some napkins. He’s going to have to try and jump. </p><p>“Alright, Bucky,” he mutters to himself. “You’ve got this.”</p><p>He runs at the stack and plants his foot directly on the perfect spot, jumps up at the wall. The rough brickwork scrapes at his fingers but he manages to catch a handhold with his metal fingers, braces the toes of his boots against the wall. </p><p>This was a terrible idea.</p><p>Bucky reaches for the windowsill, pulls himself up the side with a grunt. Oh fuck, that’s awful. This is why he never wants to go to the gym. There’s enough physical work involved in his day job, he doesn’t want to be doing this for leisure. </p><p>He won’t be doing this for any reason ever, as it turns out, because the windowsill is old and it cracks under his fingers. What a way to go, he thinks distantly as he falls. All that broken glass down there, he’s done for. </p><p>Instead of hitting the concrete, he hits someone’s arms. </p><p>“Nice catch, Nat.” </p><p>“Yes, well,” Natasha says, shifting Bucky around like he weighs nothing. Her skin looks redder than usual, more like sunburn than a blush. “You always have to be ready to catch a burglar, even if the burglar is doing a terrible job of it. Hello, James.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Sorry about the window,” Bucky says. </p><p>“Eh,” Clint calls from upstairs. “It’s an old place, things fall apart. We can fix it.”</p><p>“No injuries here,” Natasha announces.</p><p>Clint’s footsteps thump down the stairs and Natasha lets go of Bucky’s hand, sits back on the couch so they’re not quite touching. The redness has mostly faded from her skin, leaving it pale again. Clint stops once he gets to the carpet, takes in how they’re sitting and then maneuvers himself so he’s perched on the arm of the chair with his feet tucked under Natasha’s leg. </p><p>They’re both looking a little wary - Clint’s is obvious with the little crease of his brows, the slight downward curve to his lips. Natasha’s expression is blank because she’s good at doing the neutral thing, but Bucky can see her tapping her fingers nervously against her thigh. </p><p>They’re waiting.</p><p>“Are you secretly planning to murder me and stuff my corpse in the freezer?” Bucky blurts out, because he’s absolutely useless. </p><p>Clint blinks at him. </p><p>A noise makes both of them startle and it takes him a second to realize Natasha’s laughing. It’s louder and more obnoxious than he would’ve expected from her, and as they both turn to stare at her in unison she snorts. </p><p>After a few seconds Clint snickers at her and she keeps laughing even as she throws a book at him and he overbalances, falling off the arm of the couch and onto the floor. Natasha’s laughing turns into cackles and even Clint’s grinning when he sits up, hair even wilder than before.</p><p>Somehow all the tension vanishes. </p><p>“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her do anything unattractive before,” Bucky says. Not that Natasha’s ever actually unattractive, it’s just that everything she does is so controlled. It feels like she’s acting in a role in a movie instead of hanging out half of the time, and then there’s this. She might actually be crying from laughter. Bucky’s blown away. </p><p>“Yeah, she’s an ugly laugher,” Clint says. </p><p>“It’s cute,” Bucky adds before either of them get the wrong idea.</p><p>Clint gives him a funny look at that and Bucky’s not sure if he’s said the right thing until Clint launches over Natasha, catches his face with lightning-fast speed and kisses him. Bucky’s immediately distracted by the kissing. Clint’s got a thing he does with his tongue and Bucky has no clue how he does it, but it’s magical. </p><p>Supernatural, even.</p><p>“You are perfect,” Clint announces when he stops. </p><p>“Thanks,” Bucky replies, a little dazed.</p><p>“Oh, James,” Natasha says. “James, James, James.”</p><p>She pats his head. Bucky’s a little offended by it, honestly.</p><p>“First of all, we’re not going to kill you,” Clint says. “What the <em> fuck </em>, Bucky?”</p><p>“Second of all, that freezer is not big enough to fit you in. You’re not <em> that </em>skinny,” Natasha adds. </p><p>He’d be insulted but, well. That’s fair. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Bucky says. “My, uh. Tony likes conspiracy theories - and he doesn’t get a lot of sleep because he’s always working? - and he was convinced he’d recognized you. There was something about his dad’s assistant, and then he’d seen a painting in a museum that he thought looked like you? And then he was convinced you were secretly vampires and I started to get caught up in all his bullshit because I don’t <em> know </em>anything about you guys and- I just.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“Huh,” Clint says. </p><p>“I know it’s insane,” Bucky adds, dropping his face into his hands. “I’m sorry I got all weird about it.”</p><p>“You know lots of things about us. You saw my ass tattoo,” Clint says.</p><p>“Sometimes I feel like you two can see all of me and the only thing I get back is a blurry snapshot,” Bucky says. Wow. That was more poetic than he’d expected it to be. “It freaks me out. But I don’t want to fuck this up because I’m insecure."</p><p>“Hey now,” Clint says, pats his cheek. “You’re not fucking anything up, stop that. It’s okay.”</p><p>Natasha frowns at him. “Why didn’t you just <em> talk </em>to us?”</p><p>“I didn’t realize how I was feeling until the other day.”</p><p>“I will admit we’re a little… cagey, perhaps,” Natasha answers, shares a look with Clint. They start having a conversation entirely with their eyebrows. Bucky doesn’t understand anything that’s going on, so he has to wait until they finish and Natasha focuses back on him. “It’s not fair that we do that to you.”</p><p>“Can we try and do better? I mean, you came back, so I’m gonna assume you’re still interested in this,” Clint says. </p><p>“I’m still interested,” Bucky answers quickly. “I’m, uh. Extremely interested.”</p><p>“Okay, so we promise to tell you more about ourselves and you promise to tell us if something’s wrong. Deal?”</p><p>“Deal.”</p><p>“Well, that’s a load off my mind,” Clint says. “Stay the night?”</p><p>“Sure,” Bucky answers, relief washing over him.</p><p>“We should’ve burned that painting the minute it was finished,” Natasha remarks.</p><p>“It was a nice painting,” Clint argues. “It’s the only time they’ve ever got my eyes right.”</p><p>Hang on. “<em> What </em>?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Huh,” Bucky says, swallows. </p><p>“See? No space for corpses,” Natasha tells him, casts a hand at the open freezer. “That’s one thing down.”</p><p>Natasha fails to say anything about the reason why the giant freezer is full. It’s nice that this was the first thing they’d decided to show him as a sign they’re going to be more open about their lives, but now Bucky’s more worried about the bags of frozen red liquid. </p><p>“Why do you need so <em> much </em>?”</p><p>“Sneaking into hospitals and blood banks takes a lot more effort than it used to,” Clint says from where he’s leaning up against the door frame. “Security advancements suck. No offence to you and your StarkTech friends.”</p><p>“We stock up where we can,” Natasha says. </p><p>Bucky manages to tear his gaze away from the blood. “This is just plugged into an outlet. What happens if the power goes out?”</p><p>“We leave it for as long as possible without opening the lid,” Natasha replies and Clint adds, “and then if the power’s still off we go on a bender.”</p><p>“That... seems like a bad idea. I’m gonna get some stuff from work when I go in, and then I can hook it up to a battery that’ll keep it going for the next hundred years,” Bucky says. “Maybe with solar on the roof just in case.”</p><p>Clint and Natasha just look at him blankly.</p><p>“You’re taking this well,” Clint ventures. </p><p>“I know,” Bucky says, a slightly hysterical laugh escaping him. “The fuck’s wrong with me, huh?”</p><p>“We appreciate the assistance, James,” Natasha says. </p><p>Bucky looks back at the freezer again, swiftly decides he’d rather be looking at his - partners? - instead of bags upon bags of frozen blood. He’s dating vampires. <em>Two</em> vampires. And he’s fixing their freezer because apparently that’s not a dealbreaker. “Why keep so much of the frozen stuff? Wouldn’t it be easier to just…”</p><p>“In theory,” Natasha says. </p><p>“We don’t do that,” Clint adds, pulling a face.</p><p>“Oh,” Bucky says. He must make a face or something because their expressions change after that. Clint’s lips twitch up into an incredulous kind of smirk and now Natasha’s got one eyebrow lifted with interest. Bucky feels like one of those old-school sacrifices that get thrown into a volcano, except he’s jumped into the lava without there being any need.</p><p>“Did you want us to bite you, James?”</p><p>“I, uh,” Bucky says, feels his face heat up. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Is this a self-destructive thing?”</p><p>“Nope,” Bucky says. “I mean - I don’t think so?”</p><p>“I’m going to trust that you’re not using me for some kind of elaborate self-flagellation,” Natasha replies. </p><p>“I promise I’m not,” Bucky says. He’d forgotten until now that the dreams about Clint and Natasha with sharp teeth and black eyes had resulted in a boner. It had been overshadowed by the anxiety over how much he didn’t get about them. Now it’s coming back in full force, with him sitting on the bed and Natasha watching him like a hawk.</p><p>“It’s a sex thing?”</p><p>“It’s not <em> not </em>a sex thing,” he answers honestly.</p><p>Natasha nods, seems satisfied by that reply and pulls off her sweater. She’s just wearing a plain black sports bra underneath and it’s nothing special but he likes it anyway, likes every inch of her down to the neon pink knee socks she’s wearing. (He gets the feeling those don’t actually belong to her.) </p><p>Bucky unbuttons his own shirt automatically, lets it drop to the floor. By the time he’s done with that Natasha’s gotten closer and she tips his chin up with one finger, the nail scratching at stubble he’s forgotten to shave off. Bucky’s breath catches as she leans in but she doesn’t kiss him, just gets close enough that he can almost taste the strawberry chapstick on her lips.</p><p>“Not <em> not </em>sex things are acceptable,” Natasha says. </p><p>Bucky looks at Clint.</p><p>“I’m supervising, don’t mind me,” Clint says, putting his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. </p><p>“Do we need supervising?” He looks back at Natasha. “You’re not gonna rip my throat out, right?”</p><p>Natasha makes a face and looks away. That’s not an extraordinarily convincing denial. Now Bucky’s regretting watching The Revenant last night when it was on the television because he remembers exactly how that shit had ended for the love interest. Why does Steve have to love watching dark comedies?</p><p>“She’s a virgin,” Clint supplies. </p><p>A second later he’s hit in the forehead with a neon pink sock and Bucky turns his disbelieving gaze on Natasha. “You are not a virgin. Unless - did you guys make me hallucinate all the sex? Vampires can do that, right?”</p><p>“We didn’t make you hallucinate the sex. Not like that. I’ve never drunk a human’s blood before,” Natasha says. </p><p>“Oh,” Bucky says. Glances at Clint. </p><p>“Yeah, no,” Clint says. “I’m not telling you that story, you’ll have nightmares for weeks. Maybe when you’re older.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“How are you gonna do this?”</p><p>“Not the neck,” Natasha says, looking at Bucky intently. “Too risky.”</p><p>That shouldn’t be hot. It’s not hot, except that his skin’s prickling with warmth and he’s thinking about teeth on his throat, being pushed down on the bed and absolutely wrecked. Bucky tries to subtly adjust his pants. It isn’t subtle enough, if the tiny smirk on Natasha’s face tells him anything.</p><p>“Wrist is probably a good start,” Clint offers.</p><p>Natasha nods in acknowledgement. She doesn’t actually make a move though, and Bucky thinks maybe she’s more nervous about this than she’s letting on. It’s what finally pushes him into moving, reaches out for her and switches their positions so she’s sitting on the mattress instead.</p><p>Bucky drops to his knees easily, still holding out his arm carefully. He’s silent as he does it, completely focused on the way Natasha’s looking at him. She takes hold of his wrist with careful hands and tilts his arm until she can press her nose against the skin, eyes fluttering shut. It’s colder than he’s expecting but he doesn’t startle. </p><p>Sudden movements feel like a bad idea right now. </p><p>Natasha inhales slowly and there’s the slightest hint of fangs when her lips part. Bucky’s heart starts beating faster without his permission and they must know, they must be able to tell that he’s weirdly into the submission of it all. He’s worked up enough that he feels dizzy and disoriented, only steadying when another body presses up against his back to support him.</p><p>“You’re still sure about this?”</p><p>There’s only a faint circle of green in Natasha’s eyes when she opens them at Clint’s question, but she doesn’t make a move. She’s waiting for him to answer, he realizes. </p><p>“Yeah,” he breathes, and it comes out barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.”</p><p>Not a second passes before there’s teeth sinking into his skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as he’s expecting it to - he’s not sure what he expected, really. Bucky’s reminded of tattoo needles more than anything else, the low buzz of pain settling into his bones. Mostly he can just feel Natasha’s mouth on his skin and that always feels good.</p><p>The floor’s hard against his knees and Natasha’s fingers are cold where she’s holding onto him. Bucky doesn’t mean to make a noise but it slips out as Natasha’s tongue swipes over his skin, soothing the sting. It doesn’t help that his brain’s getting muddled about the line between pain and pleasure.</p><p>“That’s it,” Clint says in his ear, cool hands curling over his hips. “Good boy, you’re doing so well. Feeling okay?”</p><p>“’m okay,” Bucky manages. God, he’s so hard it aches - why does it feel so good? He’s not supposed to like someone drinking his blood this much, surely. It’s taking most of his brainpower not to melt into a boneless puddle on the floor. If he did that Natasha would stop, though - luckily he’s got help staying upright.</p><p>Clint lips brush his neck and Bucky tips his head back without thinking, chokes out a “<em>please</em>.”</p><p>“Aw, Buck,” Clint says, soft and amused. “You want it that bad?”</p><p>Bucky tenses up, the anticipation bubbling hot inside him, but there’s no burst of pain, just Clint leaving another gentle kiss on the curve between his neck and shoulder. </p><p>Instead Clint turns his jaw with calloused fingers, catches his lips in a way that’s far too smooth for such an awkward position. The kissing is more chaste than Clint usually goes for; it feels like a reassurance, an odd kind of comfort braced against the sharp sting in his wrist.</p><p>Bucky feels like he’s about to shake apart from all the sensations crowding at him. They don’t let him fall to pieces though, no matter how light-headed he’s feeling. </p><p>Clint lets him go and Bucky can’t help it, he whines at the loss of contact. Trying to crane his head back doesn’t help so he looks up at Natasha instead. That’s possibly the best and worst decision he’s ever made, because whatever he’s feeling, Natasha’s leagues ahead of him. </p><p>Bucky wonders if fresh blood has the same effect on vampires that catnip does on cats. It’s got something to do with the way Natasha’s rubbing her mouth on his skin and the faint vibrations he can feel against his skin. He’s about ninety percent sure she’s purring at him. </p><p>What he’s supposed to do with that, he doesn’t know.</p><p>“Natasha,” he says, instantly loses his train of thought when he realizes she’s touching her nipple in slow circles through the fabric of her sports bra. “Fuck,” he adds weakly.</p><p>Clint’s teeth scrape his ear - normal, blunt human teeth - and Bucky doesn’t want to inspect why he’s disappointed with that. He arches back against Clint and feels Clint’s erection against his ass, exhales sharply and wonders if they’d take him while taking his blood. </p><p>“Please,” he says, stupid and drunk on them. </p><p>“I’m not biting you now,” Clint says, fingers rubbing careful patterns against Bucky’s hips, slipping around to the tense muscles of his stomach. The words are spoken right up against the skin under his ear and Bucky just wants.</p><p>“Touch me,” he begs instead of trying to change Clint’s mind. </p><p>It works, because a second later Clint’s hands are unbuttoning his jeans. Bucky lifts his hips helpfully, lets Clint push them down his thighs. The damp patch on his underwear exposes how much he’s into this, and that’s without mentioning the way his cock is straining at the fabric. </p><p>A second later fingers wrap around his dick and he sinks his teeth into his lower lip, the hot pulses of pleasure spiked higher by the pain. He’s got himself so wet that Clint’s hand slides on him easily, fingertips rubbing at the sensitive spots.</p><p>Bucky’s so caught up with the sensations rushing through him that he barely registers Natasha sliding down on the floor in front of him. Her knees brush his and he focuses in time to see Natasha nose at the inside of his elbow, a smear of red at the corner of her mouth. </p><p>Clint rubs at the head of his dick and Bucky’s choked-off noise is nearly a sob when Natasha’s fingers join them, start pumping his cock.</p><p>“Natasha,” Bucky breathes, because he’s this close to losing his goddamn mind. “Clint, please.”</p><p>“We’ve got you,” Clint says, and they do (maybe that’s part of why Bucky likes it so much) and Natasha’s fangs break the skin at the same time and Bucky’s done, he’s coming so hard it hurts.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Please tell me I’m not a vampire now,” Bucky says.</p><p>“Nope,” Natasha replies, licking her lips. “One hundred percent human.”</p><p>“Minus the whole bionic left arm situation,” Clint adds.</p><p>Bucky gets stuck staring at her mouth and it takes a juice box being shoved in his face to stop. He takes it and inspects the label to see what flavour it is, shrugs, takes a sip. It’s not the worst thing he’s ever drank, even if it has carrot in it. Sugar and all that. He sprawls back on the mattress once the box is empty, lets out a sigh. </p><p>A minute passes and then Clint and Natasha are laying on either side of him. His whole body is buzzing pleasantly and he’s fairly sure that if he tries to move, he’s going to end up in a boneless heap on the floor. Man, he hopes no one freaks out if he misses a day at work.</p><p>“Biting won’t turn you,” Clint says. “You’re fine.”</p><p>“Good,” Bucky says. </p><p>They probably think he’s happy because he doesn’t want to be a vampire which yeah, he doesn’t want that - he likes the sun and he’d miss his day job too much - but mostly his post-orgasm brain doesn’t want to miss out on any repeats of this situation. </p><p>“We should steal that painting back,” Natasha says. </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Where did you say it was being held, James?”</p><p>“Uh,” Bucky says, tries to wrangle his brain back to somewhat functional levels. “Belgium, I think. Maybe the Netherlands. Somewhere around that area.”</p><p>“Alright,” Clint says. “Hey Buck, you got any vacation days saved up? Want to go on a fancy European holiday where we eat fancy chocolates and drink champagne and totally don’t steal irreplaceable museum art worth thousands, if not millions?”</p><p>“I might have a little something saved up,” Bucky answers. “I’d… I’d like that.”</p><p>“Good,” Natasha says decisively, like it’s already done. Knowing her, it probably is. </p><p>He’s okay with that.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Barnes! You’re still here, good. Pepper said you’d taken a sudden vacation and I was worried you were leaving.”</p><p>“I am leaving,” Bucky replies, finishes emailing the rest of his work to Sam before he stands up from his desk. He hasn’t bothered cleaning it out - he’ll be back soon enough, and even though Natasha and Clint offered to be his sugar-whatevers, Bucky’s not quite ready for that.</p><p>He is ready for a holiday somewhere far away from all this nonsense though, and he ignores Tony as he shrugs his coat on, pulls a pair of gloves over his hands. Bucky’s phone beeps with a text; it’s probably Natasha letting him know the car’s outside. </p><p>Tony seems oblivious to his disinterest. “Is everything okay?”</p><p>“Fine,” Bucky says. </p><p>“You’re sure about that?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Steve said I freaked you out with all the things I said and I don’t want you to leave because you’re an asset to the company and one of my favourite employees, frankly, so I’m here to apologize for what was definitely not my fault and I-”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Bucky says. “Good for you. Bye, Tony.”</p><p>“You-” Tony says, breaks off and stares at him. </p><p>“Me,” Bucky says, pushes past him to get on the elevator. </p><p>Tony waits for all of two seconds and then he points at Bucky with renewed fervor. “You!”</p><p>Bucky scratches at the gauze on the side of his neck as the doors shut, very purposefully doesn’t make eye contact with a shocked-looking Tony as the elevator doors cut off whatever he was going to say. He doesn’t quite smirk, but it’s a close thing.</p><p>“See Stark on your way out? He was searching for you,” Clint says as Bucky walks out into the lobby. He’s leaning up against the front desk, a pair of purple aviators perched on his head. </p><p>“Sure did,” Bucky replies. </p><p>Clint cocks his head to the side. “Were you fucking with him?”</p><p>“He deserves it.”</p><p>“He’s still your boss. Still want a job when you get back, right?”</p><p>“Eh,” Bucky says dismissively. “Technically Pepper’s the boss and she loves me. Tony doesn’t fire people unless they do something horrible to him or his people. Jetting off for a holiday and driving him up the wall a little ain’t that bad.”</p><p>“If you say so,” Clint replies with a shrug. “Ready to go? Nat had to wait in the car - midday sun, sensitive skin, y’know. I lost a bet, so she’s in charge of the music on the way to the airport.”</p><p>“Sounds good.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“If it’s with you guys? Yeah.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title Song: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sumAxp4tjRc"> Black Mass - Creeper</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>